Rehearsal
by Frostings
Summary: It takes five rehearsal days for Dan to fall in love. TV series verse. Response to the goodbye gossip girl ficathon on lj.


_You were unnervingly delicate  
And I had a weakness for etiquette  
You laid a trail that led straight to your door  
And I could resist but it was hard to ignore_

* * *

**Monday**

Dan knew his week wasn't going to go well when he saw Blair Waldorf invade his lunch spot.

"Have you seen THIS?!" she hissed as she shoved a piece of paper in front of his nose, her tone accusatory.

He took one look at it. "Of course I have, Blair," he said casually, knowing that it'd only piss her off more. "See? Blair Waldorf as Ellen Olenska and Newland Archer as...me!" he threw up his hands goofily for maximum effect.

"How. Can. You. Do. This. To. Me. HUMPHREY!" she barked, making the other students around them jump with surprise. She glanced around with a fake smile on her face before she wheeled back on him again. "How could you?!"

"How could I?" he scoffed. "It'd only assure me an easy A for memorizing a couple of lines, which I already do on a normal basis anyway. It was a risk knowing that you might get the role of Ellen, but I know how to block out noise when I need to."

Blair could only glare at him.

"Because I have a sister." He clarified.

"You are insufferable."

"So," Dan turned back to his lunch, already bored. "We should start rehearsing. Your place or mine?"

Blair's shriek of frustration hardly seemed human.

**Tuesday**

Dan had already more or less perfected the art of assuming an unimpressed air when around these trust fund kids, but Blair's household was a league of its own. While Serena made every effort to make him feel at home with their modern decor and their discreet (and almost invisible) househelp, Blair's home was the opposite. It was as if it was designed to intimidate. Every corner of their living space screamed money, every table decorated with expensive flowers, and they even had a maid in a maid costume. Really, it was how to talk to Dorota that made Dan's facade break a little.

For starters, she wasn't exactly polite. Dorota looked at him like he was about to make away with the silver. "Wait here, Ms. Blair not ready yet." she said in her accented English, one eyebrow raised.

"Um. Okay. Thanks? I guess?" Dorota only sniffed haughtily and left him to his own devices by whisking off to the kitchen.

Blair's foosteps sounded down the stairs. "Humphrey! What are you doing there skulking around the entrance!" Impatient with him already, she pulled him into the living room, DVDS in one hand.

He stopped in his tracks. "Blair, what's that?"

She snorted. "All film versions of the Age of Innocence. I am already the perfect Ellen Olenska. While you..." she looked at him, her little nose wrinkled in disgust. "I'm not quite sure what to make of you, but you're not going to ruin my moment!"

Dan blinked.

"You just won't!"

"You need help, Blair."

"Speak for yourself."

They started the with latest adaptation by Martin Scorsese. They had settled themselves into the two opposite ends of the couch, but Dorota had procured snacks, which forced them to go a little nearer to reach.

"You're doomed," Blair suddenly said as she daintily chewed popcorn.

"Sorry?"

"I said, you're doomed. The moment you try to act like Daniel Day-Lewis, you'd just end up looking constipated."

Dan frowned. "That's the whole point of this story! Everyone's running around with all their constipated feelings!"

"It's one thing to be metaphorically constipated, it's another thing to look literally constipated." she glanced at him sideways. "Like the way you look right now."

"This is not my constipated face, this is just the face I make when I'm annoyed."

"Oh, is it?" Blair murmured, amused. "Then you are definitely doomed."

**Wednesday**

"I don't really see the point of this, Blair." Dan complained.

"Haven't you heard of Method Acting?" Blair said in that snotty, know-it-all tone that Dan was beginning to really, really, hate. "You need all the help you can, Humphrey, and I don't trust those neanderthals at school to teach you about dining etiquette. You should count yourself lucky to be taught by me."

"I'm beside myself with joy." he deadpanned.

"Alright." Blair went on. "What do you call this fork?" she tapped the small one that lay furthermost from the plates.

"Uhhh...the one to tell time with?"

"Honestly, Humphrey!" she huffed impatiently. She sat down heavily and crossed her arms, pouting like a child.

"Blair, no one gives a shit!" Dan said. "The audience won't see the table setting, they won't see if I'm using the wrong wine with the entree, they won't care! Not if we're doing our jobs right!"

"But I will see it, and I do care! I want to see it done right!" Blair burst out.

The two fell into an uneasy silence. Dan sighed.

"Maybe we can just go through the dance steps again." he offered gently. It was worth it to see her eyes brighten again.

"Alright," she stood up and brushed off her skirt. "Just follow my lead, Humphrey-you're used to doing that."

**Thursday**

Maybe they were enjoying the dancing a little too much.

Dan couldn't help but feel a thrill in holding her waist lightly under his hand, her skin soft under her dress. Softness wasn't something he had associated with Blair Waldorf before, but softness she had. When they recited lines as they swayed, she trained her eyes to look lovingly on him, and more than once Dan had to remind themselves that they were acting.

It was less hard to convince himself when they weren't dancing.

"Well!" Blair snapped to her usual self when the scene ended. She pulled herself abruptly from his hands and marched over to her iPod, already busying herself with the next track. "I think that went very well, considering your left feet!"

"MY left feet? You were practically pushing me around! If you just let me take a hold on the dance for two seconds, I would've been practically Fred Astaire!" He hated that he was already being defensive, but Blair had that effect on him. He hated that she pulled away.

The moment he said it, he heard it: There was something in his voice. Sure, he felt frustrated, but for reasons not totally anchored in her criticism. Her criticism had always been a constant, but now...

Blair sniffed, and tried to avert her face from him. "I think we've had enough rehearsal for today, don't you think?" A cue for him to leave.

He didn't understand why he felt his heart fall, nor why he suddenly felt like he had to apologize. Wasn't she the one who was always harsh on him? "Sure. I need to get started on my Physics homework anyway."

"You can see yourself out the door." Blair said without looking up. She sounded strangely...fragile.

He stared at her back, hands in his pockets. "See you around, Waldorf."

"See you, Humphrey."

**Friday**

It was 30 minutes past ten, but Dan couldn't sleep.

Blair had been extra obnoxious to him that day. She had her applicants for minion-hood crowd him out of his usual lunch spot, loudly disinvited him from a social event she was organizing, and 'accidentally' spilled yogurt all over his front shirt.

Normally it wouldn't have bothered him, but Blair's triumphant looks at her small victories were tinged with hurt.

He didn't understand. All week all they've done besides rehearsing was to be caustic and snappy at each other. There hadn't been overt gestures of friendliness, no chummy singing of Kumbaya around a fire. Blair had been Blair at her absolute worst, and Dan was just being himself.

He tried to distract himself by going through his lines.

_Ellen...I have to ask you, one last thing._

And then Blair would go, _Yes?_

_Was it Riviere who helped you get away from your husband?_

Then Blair would say, _Yes, I owe him a great debt._

_You are the most honest woman I've ever met._

Then Blair would say, _No, but probably the least fussy._

Dan had to laugh. He remembered saying to Blair that this particular line was the least applicable to her. Blair never said things plainly, and he was convinced that she was the patron saint of fussiness. He could still remember how she raised each dinner table utensil and painstakingly explained the use of each one.

How she daintily ate popcorn, one by one.

How she counted softly under her breath when she danced.

He realized, Blair being Blair wasn't all that bad. In fact...

He shot up from bed and began grabbing his discarded clothes from the floor. He rushed out into the New York night and took a cab that would take him straight him to the Upper East Side. It was going to cost him a fortune, but he really didn't care.

When he finally reached her apartment, got in the elevator, excused himself with Dorota, and crossed the foyer to meet her, Blair's hair was rustled and her eyes were still heavy with sleep.

"Humphrey...what on earth...?"

"I'm sorry." He blurted out. Blair's eyes widened. "For yesterday, for snapping at you. I don't want you to be angry at me."

She shook her head. "I'm not angry with you."

He sighed. "Fine, I don't want you to hate me."

"I don't hate you either." The weight in his chest seemed to have rolled away with those words, but Blair was frowning again. "Is that what you came here for? To ask if I hated you?"

Dan nodded.

Blair rolled her eyes. "I opened my home to you, I watched movies with you, I took out my mother's best china to educate you, I let you dance with me, I let you touch me, and you're seriously asking me if I hate you?"

"Well, the whole throwing yogurt on my shirt _**was **_pretty convincing..."

She came closer now, and his traitorous heart began to beat faster. "I'm just mad at you for being so stupid..." she whispered as she slowly put her arms around his neck. "Haven't you noticed it yet?"

He had. He had noticed. He just didn't want to believe it. Not Blair Waldorf. Definitely not him.

"I don't want to rehearse anymore, Blair." he said.

Blair laughed, relieved. "I don't want to rehearse anymore, either."

* * *

**A/N:** Season 2 nostalgia/Age of Dissonance love settling in. Dair could've happened THIS EARLY you guys


End file.
